


Good as Gold

by bighammerlittlehammer



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: M/M, Religious Guilt, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-17 19:37:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14196249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bighammerlittlehammer/pseuds/bighammerlittlehammer
Summary: Link goes to a gay strip club to prove to himself that he is not, in fact, gay. It goes just about as well as you might expect.





	1. The Man in Red

Allen stared into the mirror with a twisted, upset expression. Makeup was hard, glitter makeup was harder, and  _ fixing _ glitter makeup was almost impossible. But here he was, with uneven glitter eyeliner and the minutes before curtain rapidly counting down. He leaned in and struggled to fix his mistake without having to start all over as footsteps came up behind his chair.

“You know no one looks at your face, right? They’re here for ass.”

“And a good evening to you too, my most beloved coworker.” Allen sneered over his shoulder at Kanda, who was already fully prepared for his act even though he wouldn’t be onstage for another hour. His hair was bundled tightly into a bun on the back of his head, his legs clad in leather so tight it looked like a second skin, and a long black kimono-like robe hiding everything else. He wore no makeup, but he never needed to. Kanda had one of those faces that looked nearly perfect without any sort of adornment, unlike Allen, with his unsightly facial scarring. Kanda scoffed.

“You wear too much glitter, you look like a clown.”

“Good, at least that implies I know how to make people laugh, unlike someone I could name.” Allen finally gave up on his makeup and stood, grabbing his feather-trimmed coat from the back of his chair and shrugging it on. He looked over himself in the mirror before turning to Kanda, smile bright and ingenuine. “Perhaps I should clown about for you a bit, you always look so ill, and you know what they say about laughter being the best medicine.”

“Eat shit, beansprout.” Kanda sneered, despite the fact that Allen’s heels made him almost as tall as Kanda.

“It’s  _ Allen _ .” he snapped, before shutting his eyes and forcing himself to breath. His name was called, and he flashed another smile. “Well, actually, I suppose it’s Cupid now, isn’t it?” And with that, he turned and strode confidently out of the dressing room, through the backstage area, and onto the stage.

The stage was an easy place for Allen to be. The club was always dark, with the lights focused mostly on the stage, meaning the audience just looked like a black void before him. He took his place center stage, posing, waiting as the audience oohed and ahhed. Finally, a remix of “Stupid Cupid” started playing over the club’s loudspeakers, and Allen started to dance.

Allen liked the poppier dances, the ones that kept him moving. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do slow and sensual, it was just that he liked having fun with his work. This particular dance started off with a lot of fun footwork, letting his audience get a glimpse of what was under his long white coat, but not getting to the fun stuff just yet. He walked along the edge of the stage, where the high-paying clients could  touch him, and stuck out a leg, clad in white lace stockings and over-the-knee white boots. Hands traced over him, someone slid a dollar into his boot. A regular, probably.

 

_ Stupid cupid, you’re a real mean guy _ _  
_ __ _ I’d like to clip your wings so you can’t fly... _

 

This close to the audience, Allen had a better view of the faces watching him, and he noticed one in particular. He was sitting rather close, considering the fact that he didn’t seem to be someone Allen had seen before. Allen had to twist away to another part of the stage as he dropped his coat, but the image of the man stayed in his mind; blond hair, red coat, flushed cheeks. A newbie, perhaps?

 

_ And I know that you’re the one to blame… _

 

He wiggled and twisted before the audience, showing off his white corset, long white gloves, and white booty shorts. Garters held up his stockings, and his heels tapped dizzyingly on the stage as he danced. He sashayed down the steps at the front of the stage, the spotlight following him as he began to dance among the audience. The club’s policies varied from dancer to dancer, but the rules with Allen’s (or, rather, Cupid’s) shows were thus; clients could touch any part of him that was still clothed, including tucking money into whatever he was still wearing. He would dance through the audience and would touch a few random clients, though not for very long or very intimately. Anyone who wanted more then that would have to pay for a private show.

Allen playfully put his foot up on the arm of one client’s chair, smiling sweetly down at the man, who was clearly sweating bullets. He smoothly bent, as if to kiss the client, before snatching himself back and wagging his finger. Naughty, naughty boy. No kissing the dancers. He paused between rows and stood with his legs apart as he began to unzip the front of his corset, feeling hungry eyes on him. His gaze once again fell to the blond man in the red coat.

_ I’m acting like a lovesick fool… _

 

The man was completely enraptured, watching with stars in his eyes as Allen exposed himself. Allen ran a gloved hand down his chest, maintaining eye contact. That’s right, look at me. Look at what you can’t have.

He turned and flung his corset onto the stage, then posed, displaying his infamous back tattoo. Two perfect angel wings, covering most of his back, the very bottom feathers creeping into the waistband of his little white shorts. He looked over his shoulder and winked at the audience, much to their delight.

 

_ Stupid cupid, stop picking on me! _

 

He continued to twist and skip through the rows, touching a man’s tie here, kissing a forehead there. He was light on his feet and even lighter with his hands. He was supposed to be an angel, after all. A fleeting fantasy, something the audience would crave to hold but never truly have. He was a vision of white lace and silver glitter, bright as a diamond under the spotlight. Someone smacked his ass, and he arched, displaying his face to the sky with a look of rapture, as if he had enjoyed it. He hadn’t, but that didn’t matter. Sell it to the audience. Make them want him. Make them think they had a chance.

Allen really hadn’t been planning to go near the man in red, but to his surprise, he found himself in the right row. The client was still staring, his jaw slightly slack, and Allen found himself absolutely delighted to be holding his attention so well. Slowly, an idea formed in his mind.

 

_ You’ve got me jumping like a crazy clown… _

 

Allen paused in front of the man, reached out, and cupped his chin, tilting his head up. The man watched him, soft brown eyes full of awe, like Allen was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Allen knew he already  _ looked _ like he was glowing, but under this man’s gaze, he  _ felt _ like it too. He placed his other hand on the man’s thigh, sliding forward, keeping their gazes locked, their lips drawing closer and closer. As his hand went higher, his fingers brushed the man’s erection, and he could feel the man’s throat constrict and swallow under his fingers. For once, Allen pulled away from a client with regret in his eyes.

 

_ Hey hey, set me free _ _  
_ __ _ Stupid cupid, stop picking on me! _

 

From there, it was a matter of dancing back onto the stage. He lingered on a few other audience members, but none as long as he had for the man in red. He stepped back into the stage with a big smile, and finally, it was time for the audience’s favorite part. He undulated his hips, sliding his hand over the front of his shorts… then ripped them off in one, smooth motion, leaving him standing there, totally shirtless, in a tiny white g-string and stockings. The crowd went wild, and he turned, pretending to be shy. Then he answered the pleading calls from the audience and came close again, letting those close to the stage touch him once more. More bills were shoved into his boots, and Allen found himself searching once again for the man in red.

 

_ So go play Robin Hood _

__ _ With somebody else’s heart… _

 

There he was, looking like a man who’d witnessed a miracle. Even knowing he wasn’t supposed to favor customers, Allen let himself pretend he was dancing just for that man, giving him a private show he’d never forget. Allen moved like the music had him hypnotized, a perfect mix of bashful cuteness and saucy seduction. Every motion screamed  _ touch me _ , every caress of his own skin begged to be followed by the hands of another. He finished with a fantastic spin, ending with his back to the audience, his wings and his ass on display.

 

_ Hey hey, set me free _

__ _ Stupid cupid, stop picking on me! _

 

The applause was just as passionate as could be expected, and Allen was sure to wink and blow kisses at a few particularly excited clients before he turned and waltzed off stage, knowing a certain pair of soft brown eyes was watching him the whole way.

 

\--

 

Allen lounged backstage with the other dancers, staying quiet and sipping at a bottle of water. He counted the money he’d gathered through tips ($57). A few other dancers went on. Nothing seemed amiss until Kanda walked past and hesitated by Allen’s chair.

“I saw what you were doing out there. Don’t think you’re the only one who can charm a guy.”  The comment was cryptic, tossed over Kanda’s shoulder like it didn’t matter. But it made Allen twist in his chair and watch the dark-haired dancer walk away, a look of confusion on his face. Following his impulses, Allen stood, quietly sneaking to a spot just behind the curtains where he could watch Kanda’s performance.

Kanda’s stage name was Incubus, and he lived up to the title. He was tall, muscular in a lean way, and his black leather dance outfit left nothing to the imagination. He favored darker, more sensual music, and had the general aura of someone you’d thank after he kicked you in the face. He was the polar opposite of Allen’s soft, sugar-dusted charm. No, Incubus was not like Cupid at all.

The song began and the lights went low and red. Kanda moved in the shadows, slinking about, a mysterious shape the audience couldn’t keep track of. Allen saw him drop his robe, but he was sure no one else would pick up on it until the lights came up.

 

_ You, you’re hotter than a cherry on a cigarette _

 

And there it was. The red lights fell back for the usual lighting, and the audience oohed at the display before them. Without his robe, Kanda was a vision of leather straps, criss-crossing over his chest and back like he’d been completely tied down moments before. A beast newly broken free from his bonds. He twisted a hand into his hair and yanked something out, letting his long, dark locks cascade down his back. His ponytail stayed intact, but now everyone could be mesmerized by his hair - as if they weren’t already drawn in by the rest of him.

 

_ Your body’s built just like a weapon and you’re using it _

 

Kanda’s dance style involved a lot of contorting, which wasn’t surprising, the man was incredibly flexible. He twisted about, on the floor one second, back on his feet in the next, displaying himself for the audience piece by piece; back, ass, chest, arms, legs. If Cupid’s dance said  _ come hither _ , Incubus’ said  _ get over here and wreck me, before I wreck you _ . Allen had to admit, it was a very attractive display.

 

_ But the devil can hear you when you say... _

 

The music paused, and so did Kanda, on his knees yet somehow powerful, staring out at the audience with a look of daring in his eyes. He was a fighting dog on a chain, a predator waiting to pounce, a storm hanging overhead. Allen realized, with a sinking stomach, that Kanda was looking directly at the man in red.

The music picked up again, and Kanda leapt to his feet, dancing into the audience with wild abandon. Incubus was popular because he had fewer touching rules than most of the dancers; as long as no one was stealing his clothes or impeding his dance, people could touch him as much as they wanted.

 

_ Move your body, use your body, lose control _

 

Kanda ground against client’s laps, let people slap his ass, even allowed one particularly burly man grab him by the straps and yank him close. He twisted in between bodies like the expert he was, his touches rough and demanding. He was fierce, hungry, unstoppable. An Incubus needed to feed, all that was in question was who would be his victim.

 

__ _ We’re gonna light this room on fire _

__ _ Yeah you and I will burn it up tonight _

 

Allen realized he was gripping the curtain with white knuckles. Damn, Kanda was good. Of course, Allen had always known that, he’d just never watched him so closely. He understood now, why so many people crowded in for Incubus’ performances, and why Kanda always went home with so many tips. He knew exactly how to utilize what he had. And right now, all that expertise was working its way directly towards the man Allen had worked so hard to seduce.

 

_ And just for fun we take your tongue and run it over my lip _

 

Kanda was in the man’s row now, still dancing, but stalking towards him with all the power, grace, and danger of a hunting panther. The man in red looked visibly shaken, almost afraid, but also pinned to his seat by Kanda’s intense gaze. Allen hoped without hope that Kanda would move past him, or would only pause for a second. But of course, that wasn’t Incubus’ way. He wasn’t light and airy-fairy, he was rough and touchy and hard. Kanda swung himself into the man’s lap without hesitation, straddling him like he intended to ride him right there in front of the entire club. He grabbed the client’s hands, making him touch him, sliding his palms over Kanda’s sweat-slicked sides and leather-bound chest.

 

_ We’re in positions that most people only say they know _

 

Allen had never felt such intense jealousy boiling in his stomach. When he’d danced for the man in red, he’d looked enchanted, like Allen was a dream come true. Now he was staring at Kanda as if he’d stepped out of his deepest, darkest fantasy, and while he seemed too scared to keep touching, he clearly wanted to. Kanda had one hand one the man’s shoulder, leaning back so the others could watch as he ground down in his lap, making the man involuntarily buck up against him. Kanda had him pinned, caught, totally under his spell, even though Kanda was the one wrapped up in bondage gear.

 

_ But the devil can hear you when you say.... _

 

And again, the music hesitated, and Kanda slowly leaned in, coming close to kissing the man in red. Just as close as Allen had, if not closer. Then the music picked up again, and Kanda smoothly slipped off the man’s lap, dancing away, casting a look over his shoulder almost as if he wanted him to follow. Allen chew his lip as Kanda wove his way back to the stage, where he did the second half of his dance, his hair flying around him and his body gleaming under the lights. Allen could see bills sticking out of the waistline of his leather pants, and even a few in the straps on his chest. But the amount of bills wasn’t what bothered him.

 

_ Rub it right up against my body _

__ _ Take my body, make it yours _

 

What bothered him was how Kanda was so damn good at what he was doing, and he was still gazing across the club at that one client. That beautiful, clearly overwhelmed man, with his long blond hair and red coat.

Allen couldn’t keep watching. He turned away, feeling sick. He knew Kanda was toying with him, had gotten his attention because he knew Allen would watch him. But why? Did he just hate Allen that much? Was he trying to prove himself the better dancer? Or did he want the cute, blushing client too? Allen groaned and slumped into his makeup chair, staring at his face in the mirror. Uneven eyeliner. Garish silver eyelashes. Rhinestones on his cheeks, streaks of silver paint under his eyes to help cover the scarring on the left side of his face. Not an angel at all. Just a clown, who couldn’t even make himself smile.

“Like the show, beansprout?” The voice startled Allen and made him twist around. Kanda was standing there, arms crossed, smirking confidently. His hair was sticking to his neck, his chest still heaving slightly. He hadn’t even plucked the bills from his clothes. His eyes were bright, looking at Allen expectantly. Suddenly, it struck Allen that Kanda was  _ waiting _ for him, waiting for Allen to respond. He considered Allen’s response to his performance to be the number one priority, now that he was off stage. Slowly, Allen grinned, standing.

“Yes, actually. You’re quite a spectacle out there.” He stepped close, acutely aware of the fact that he was still dressed in the skimpier version of his performance outfit. Kanda stepped back, eyes with with surprise. “You had the whole audience hanging off your every movement. You’re a very admirable dancer.” Without warning, Allen flung his arms around Kanda’s neck, pressing their chests close, his lips at Kanda’s ear. “But you know what? That doesn’t mean  _ shit _ when you’ve got a personality like a pig’s backside. Dance on blondie all you want; I’ve got my sights on his heart.” He pressed a kiss to Kanda’s cheek, just to make him even more uncomfortable, then Allen walked off, without even looking behind him. He grabbed his favorite tan trench coat off the coat rack, waved goodbye to another dancer who called his name, then walked out, purpose in his step.


	2. A Crisis of Sorts

Howard Link walked home with his coat hunched up around his shoulders and his expression blank. However, on the inside, he was a mess of emotions, as he so often was under his cool and calm exterior. Going to that club had been a mistake, clearly. A huge, ridiculous, pointless mistake, and he could tell he’d be suffering the consequences for a while. Even now, with the chill night air whipping about him, he knew his skin was hot. Damn those dancers, damn both of them to hell. Damn Cupid for looking so soft and inviting, damn Incubus for grabbing what he wanted and taking it before Link could so much as brace himself. And damn their touches, for burning so long on Link’s skin, even in the accursed cold.

Link eventually reached his car, parked two blocks away. He had purposefully parked far away from the club in case anyone he knew recognized his car and wondered what he was up to in the middle of the night. To be fair,  _ Link _ still wasn’t sure what he was doing out here in the middle of the night. He knew what his original intent had been, but that plan had massively backfired in his face. And now he was sitting alone in his car, his cheeks flushed and his cock still hard, questioning everything he thought he knew about himself.

He’d been raised by a church. Not surprising, given the fact he was orphaned at an early age, and there weren’t many foster programs in the area. The church took in any children who lacked caregivers, and they did a decent job of it too. If someone asked about his upbringing, Link would say he’d been well provided for and looked after. He never wanted for food or clothing, he’d been given a decent education, and of course, he’d been set on the path to go to heaven. Or so he’d thought.

It was one of the other people who’d been raised in the orphanage - a pseudo brother of Link’s - who’d started it all. Tokusa was his name, and he’d been teasing Link about never having a girlfriend. At first, Link just brushed him off with the obvious and true answer; he’d never met a girl who caught his eye, and he’d hardly met any woman his age who was interested in a long, slow relationship that would eventually end in marriage. And, possibly most importantly, he hadn’t found anyone willing to wait to have sexual relations until after they were married. For a time, that explanation had satisfied Tokusa. But then, suddenly, one day, the undercut-sporting punk had tilted his head, looked Link in the eye, and said simply-

“Dude, you sure you aren’t just gay?”

Nothing had been the same since. Link’s initial reaction at the time had been to spit out his drink, and that had given Tokusa the impression that he’d somehow hit gold. In the ensuing months, Tokusa had teased him endlessly about his supposed homosexuality. Link would’ve put up with it, except, some small, traitorous voice in the back of his head couldn’t help wondering if maybe Tokusa was right. So, when that voice became too loud to ignore, he’d decided to test the theory, prove to himself that he truly wasn’t gay, he was just selective about his choice in women.

And he’d ended up sweating, rock-hard, and totally enraptured by a twink covered in glitter and the human embodiment of rough sex. 

Link groaned and folding his arms on the steering wheel, resting his forehead on his arms. It wasn’t that he had a problem with gay people, he really didn’t. It was just that he  _ wasn’t _ one, or wasn’t supposed to be one, at any rate. He was supposed to be Howard Link, a devout Christian man who had no interest in other men or pre-marital sex. So why had the trip to the club ended like this? Link fingered the gold cross around his neck - a parting gift from the priest presiding over the church where he’d been raised - and sighed deeply before sitting up.

“This means nothing. I don’t need to think about it. I should just carry on with my life.” Maybe talking to himself wasn’t the best coping mechanism, but sometimes, it was all he had. Resolute, he put his car key into its slot and cranked, steering out of the parking lot. He drove home at his usual safe, steady pace, went into his apartment, and got ready for bed like normal. He triple-checked his alarm to make sure he wouldn’t miss work the next day, laid down, and shut his eyes, determined not to let the events at the club change anything about his life.

 

\--

 

_ Hands, gloved in pure white satin, tracing over Link’s legs slowly, reverently. A lace-clad knee, sliding slowly in between his, steadily drawing closer. A pair of perfect, pink lips, quirking into an enticing smile, tempting and tender. _

__ _ “Cupid…?” Link didn’t recognize his own voice, raspy and lost-sounding. He felt the ethereal being laugh, trembling pleasantly against him, and one of those perfect hands caressed his cock through the front of his pants. _

__ _ “Hold still.” Link felt the voice more than heard it, soft against his senses, like down feathers and silk. Suddenly, Cupid’s lips were on his neck, kissing slowly up and along his jawline, whispering over his skin. Link groaned. _

__ _ “Save some for me.” A deeper voice, rumbling like fire in a fireplace, and suddenly Link realized he was sitting in someone’s lap. A strong arm encircled his waist, and another mouth began attacking the other side of his neck, biting viciously, hungrily. _

__ _ “I-Incubus!” Link gasped, head tilting back. He felt a dark chuckle. _

__ _ “Too easy.” Link didn’t know when his clothes had disappeared, but they must have at some point, because he could feel the bulge in Incubus’ pants grinding against his bare ass, and Cupid was kissing up the inside of his legs, looking up at him with crystalline grey eyes, expression as sweet and open as if he were listening to Link tell a story. Link was panting, confused but desperate for more. He felt teeth latch onto his ear, and he groaned. _

__ _ “More, please…” _

__ _ “What a naughty boy.” Cupid’s breath ghosted over Link’s inner thighs, and he shivered, pulse pounding.” _

__ _ “I could just eat him up.” Incubus purred in his ear, making Link shudder in fear and arousal. _

__ _ “Just remember to share.” Cupid whispered, his silver eyelashes fluttering like butterflies. Then reality became hazy, and all Link could process was a flurry of touches, of hands stroking every inch of him, of mouths leaving wet trails across his skin, and two strangely silent voices calling for him. _

__ _ “Open your mouth.” _

__ _ “Spread your legs.” _

__ _ “You like that?” _

__ _ “Such a good boy.” _

__ _ Link thrashed, unable to hear his own voice but knowing he must be screaming, hands clawing for bodies he couldn’t properly touch, aching for just a little more,  _ **_just a little more-_ **

 

\--

 

Link sat bolt upright as his alarm went off. He scrambled to turn it off, his mind in a haze. When the blasted thing was finally silenced, he stared into space, slowly taking stock of his situation.

He was sweaty. His blankets and sheets were a mess, thrown about as if an animal had been in his bed. And he was as hard as he’d been the night before, when… Link groaned and buried his face in his hands.

“Shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Link, he really should've stayed home that night. Too late to turn back now!


	3. A Warzone

    Kanda liked working at the club. It was a relatively high-class place, all things considered, and the pay was decent. There was a nice ego boost he got from making people drool for him, even if he didn’t actually like meeting people. And the best part; it meant he got to see Allen Walker on the regular.

    Of course, that particular perk was one he’d never confess to the other’s face. As previously stated, Kanda wasn’t a people person, and he’d made that very clear to Allen. Which became a problem when Kanda realized he’d very much like to fuck Allen. It became even more of a problem later on, when Kanda realized he’d very much like to hold Allen’s hand and kiss him under the stars and a lot of other sappy bullshit that Kanda never usually wanted to do.

    Kanda sighed and tied up his newly brushed hair, turning away from the mirror as a couple other dancers filed in, hanging up coats and setting down bags. One was a blonde that Kanda didn’t know except by his stage name, Brat. The other was Allen, free of makeup and looking like he’d showered recently, judging by his damp hair. He was thoroughly distracted by his conversation with Brat, so Kanda continued to watch him out of the corner of his eye.

    Allen was pretty without his makeup. He firmly didn’t believe it, and always painted long streaks of silver glitter on his cheeks before showing himself to customers, but it was true. Sure, there was a long, pink, jagged scar running from his left temple down to his left jaw, even scraping over his eyelid, but it didn’t take away from his charm. It reminded Kanda of a vase that had been broken and then fixed with gold. The mark was visible, but it didn’t make the original less beautiful, it just hinted at a story. A story Kanda would likely never learn, because Allen didn’t like talking about it, and he wasn’t friends with Kanda anyway, something Kanda was quickly reminded of when Allen suddenly met his gaze and frowned. Kanda returned his frown with a glare and turned away. However, it seemed that wasn’t the end of it, because Kanda could hear Allen stepping closer.

    “Hey Kanda. You look good tonight.” Allen’s voice had never sounded so sugary sweet and sarcastic, and it made Kanda’s teeth grind.

    “Thanks, beansprout. Nice to know you you can recognize someone who’s out of your league.” He hoped his usual snarkiness would push Allen away.

    “Caught you staring.” Allen had leaned in far too close to say that, and Kanda jerked away on impulse, turning to glare. Allen’s gaze was burning with something. Rage? Disgust? “I know I look like ground meat, you don’t have to remind me by looking at me like that. And don’t think it’ll keep me from winning over that guy either. You can’t woo someone just by thrusting your hips at them.” Allen swept past, heading to the closet where his dance clothes were kept. Kanda stared after him, eyes narrowed. Why was Allen so fixated on winning that customer over? Did he know him? Something about it made Kanda’s stomach clench unpleasantly. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He didn’t have time for Allen. He was working tonight. He needed to focus.

 

\--

 

    The club offered several kinds of performances. There were nightly performances on stage, usually solo acts. There was the floor, where the dancers would intermingle with the customers in between stage performances, kissing and flirting and giving lap dances in exchange for tips. Then there were the rooms in the back, where private dances could be held. Kanda liked the stage performances best, because it meant the audience couldn’t get the chance to try to talk to him. But unfortunately, he wasn’t going to be on stage tonight, so if he wanted to collect tips, he needed to wander the floor and see if he could coax a few bills from the hornier customers.

    It was a few hours into the night, and Kanda was feeling pretty good about himself. He’d dipped in and out of the back room several times to stash away tips he’d collected, and three men had scheduled private dances with him for other nights. Private dances, while slightly awkward, made the most money. After returning to the floor, he made his way to the bar and took a seat while Lavi, the one-eyed snarky bartender, gave him a smirk.

    “Can I get you something?” he asked, polishing a glass. Kanda snorted.

    “You know I’m on the clock.”

    “Doesn’t stop some of the others.” Lavi pointed out, nodding in the direction of Brat, who was loudly and drunkenly making out with a customer in glasses. Kanda’s eyes rolled back in his head.

    “I prefer to be sure I’m doing my job properly.” Kanda scanned the room, eagle-eyed, for a new potential customer. If he picked someone too green and jittery, they wouldn’t know what to do with him, and if he picked someone too entitled, they’d want to fuck with clothes on and leave him empty-handed. His gaze stilled when he spotted Allen, in all his lacy glory.

    Apparently the customer from a few nights ago had returned, and Allen was all over him. They were seated in the audience, at the end of a row. Allen was only half in his seat, seeing as one of his legs was swung over his arm rest and into the customer’s lap. Allen was chatting animatedly, one hand resting on the customer’s chest, and the customer looked totally lost but thoroughly enraptured. He said something, and Allen laughed, smiling sweetly with his eyes closed. The uncomfortable feeling curled in Kanda’s stomach again, and he realized what it was.

    Jealousy. He was jealous.

    Kanda acted without thinking for a moment longer. He stood, stalking over to the pair, and casually leaned against the customer’s chair, his hand resting on the back of it.

    “You’re back.” He purred, eyes on the customer. He looked up, and Kanda swore the man looked like he’d seen a ghost. Then he looked away, biting his lip in a way that just screamed _shy virgin._ God, what did Allen see in this guy?

    “Yes, well. I was quite taken with the performances…” The customer was mumbling, not looking at either of them.

    “Link here was just telling me how much he liked my dance.” Allen hummed, looking smug as could be. Kanda’s hand clenched on the back of the chair.

    “That so?” he asked flatly. The customer - Link - nodded a bit too quickly.

    “I’m half convinced you have some kind of magic you work over the crowd.” he said weakly to Allen. Allen giggled, a delicate blush barely visible under his makeup. He lifted a hand, gently brushing the back of his glove across Link’s cheek.

    “What kind of cupid would I be if I couldn’t make a few people fall in love?” he asked, voice soft as down feathers.

    “Who’s here for love?” Kanda cut in, moving his hand from the back of the chair to Link’s shoulder and squeezing. Link jerked as if he would’ve gone stiff, but he was already ridged as a board. Kanda smirked. “I don’t think it was love that had you sweating under me, hm?”

    “Y-Yes, well…” Link was stammering, looking so much like a fish out of water that Kanda almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

    “Liiiink!” Allen whined, pouting. He nuzzled up to Link’s cheek, cooing directly into his ear. “Don’t bother with him, he’s so pushy and rough, don’t you think?” He ran his gloved fingers over the collar of Link’s shirt, and Kanda saw the man visibly swallow.

    “Maybe he likes it rough. Can only get so far on butterfly kisses.” Kanda argued, running his hand up Link’s shoulder and up the side of his neck, squeezing slightly. Link looked so red, Kanda wondered if he might explode. It was kind of fun, messing with him. Especially when it made Allen look at Kanda like he was Satan himself.

    “Back off, Incubus, this one’s mine.” Allen said simply, clipped and determined. His hand pressed against Link’s chest, pinning him to the chair.

    “Sorry, _Cupid_ , but you don’t call the shots here.” Kanda fired back bitingly. Suddenly, Link stood, hastily moving away from them.

    “I should leave. I shouldn’t have come here in the first place…” He was mumbling again, looking almost panicked. He turned to them with wide eyes that flicked back and forth between them. He paused, seeming to compose himself a bit, then did something rather odd. He bowed. Only a bit, but enough to make it visually obvious that’s what he was doing. Kanda’s eyebrows shot up. “Forgive me, gentleman, but I’ll take my leave.” And with that, Link ducked back into the crowd, leaving two very confused strippers behind. Allen rounded on Kanda, fire in his eyes.

    “Fuck you! He was totally gonna buy a dance from me!”

    “So you’re just after his money?” Kanda pressed, praying his voice didn’t sound as hopeful as he felt.

    “What’s it to you?!” Allen pushed against his chest, scowling.

    “I-” Kanda didn’t have an answer. Allen stood, glaring, and even though Kanda was taller, he felt somehow intimidated.

    “I don’t know what your fucking problem is, but stop trying to steal my customer. We’re not here to compete, that’s one of the company’s policies. Stay in your lane.” He stormed off in the direction of the back room, and Kanda stood there, gripping an empty chair, wondering when his life had come to this.

    “Man, you really like getting under his skin, dontcha?” Brat, who had detangled himself from his bespectacled customer, stumbled over. Kanda glared.

    “Shut up.”

    “Hey now, no need to be salty. I’m just saying your guys’ feud has been blooming into a warzone lately.” Brat wandered away with a swish of his hips, and Kanda sighed.

    “A feud, huh?” he muttered. Maybe that was the word for it. This weird _thing_ between him and Allen. He supposed there was no way he could back out of it now. He’d made his bed, now he’d have to lay in it.

 

\--

 

    “... and I just don’t know what to do.” Link concluded with a groan, burying his head in his hands. He was sitting in the living room of his dear friend Tokusa, a mug of tea in front of him, and he’d just spilled his entire _I thought I wasn’t gay but then I went to a gay strip club and what do you know I might be gay_ story. Tokusa had listened, nodding attentively. When Link was done, he set down his cup, tented his fingers together, and responded.

    “Holy shit, Madarao owes me fifty bucks!” He punched the air enthusiastically. Link gaped.

    “Excuse me?”

    “We had a bet! He was still banking on you being straight.” Tokusa grinned smugly. “But now he can eat his words and his wallet.” Link sputtered indignantly.

    “I’m going through a crisis and you placed a bet on it?!”

    “Well, when you put it that way…” Tokusa’s smile turned sheepish. Link sighed.

    “I knew I shouldn’t have come to you with this.” He started to stand, but Tokusa frantically flapped a hand to make him sit down again.

    “Hey, hey! I never said I wouldn’t help you!” The words made Link hesitate, and he slowly sat back down, looking dubious.

    “If your help involves a lot of laughing and poking fun at me, I don’t want it.”

    “Geez Link, have a little faith in me. I’m only gonna laugh and poke fun some of the time!” Tokusa crossed his legs and leaned forward, grinning. “Lemme make sure I’m clear on everything. You went to a gay bar just to make sure you wouldn’t accidentally pop a stiffy upon seeing a naked dude, got danced on by two hot strippers, and not only did you pop a stiffy, but now you keep thinking about them and popping stiffies after the fact.”

    “Could you _please_ not make it sound so vulgar!”

    “Am I wrong?”   

    “No… no you’re not.” Link sighed for about the millionth time that afternoon. “I just… wish I could get them out of my head. I thought maybe going back would disillusion me, make me see flaws in them, but…” He trailed off. Tokusa hummed.

    “Maybe you should go back and see them again.” He sipped his tea as Link’s eyes went wide.

    “What? Why? It clearly didn’t work the last time!”

    “See if you can make yourself sick of them. If you can’t stop thinking about seeing them, go and see them until you can’t stand them anymore. Too much of a good thing, you know?” Tokusa leaned forward, a smirk slowly crawling across his face, and Link felt a sense of dread wash over him. “Actually, I’ve got an even better idea…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can guess who Brat and his favorite customer are before it's revealed you get cookies.


	4. Heaven and Hell

“God damn it…” Allen glared at his lace stockings, which had apparently ripped the night prior without him realizing it. He sighed and tossed them in the trash, quicking digging through his bag for his spare set. They were fishnet, not lace, but they’d do. He pulled them on before pulling on his boots, tugging the laces to a satisfying tightness. Someone swept backstage, and Allen recognized the distinctive footsteps of Renny Epstain, one of the club’s managers.

“Alright boys, listen up, we’ve got some private shows scheduled tonight.” she called, her teeth clenched around a cigarette. Allen liked Renny, she was always very business-oriented and she took no shit from customers who wanted more than they’d paid for. He straightened up and watched her as she read off a clipboard. “Brat, you’ve got a date with your usual, room four.”

“Oh thank goodness.” sighed Bak, pulling on his royal purple crop top. Allen snickered. He highly suspected Bak’s regular, a tall man named Komui, was actually his boyfriend. Or maybe they hadn’t progressed to that stage yet and Komui was still paying through the nose for an excuse to see Bak.

“Daydream, you get room two, it’s gonna be a pole dance.”

“Excellent!” Jasdevi adjusted his wig before flashing Renny a lipsticked smile. Allen still didn’t know how he got those locks to say on while hanging upside down.

“Ace, you’re in one. Customer wants you to start in your tux and end totally nude.”                                                                                    

“Ugh, it’s so hot in here with that on though…” Tyki grumbled, even as he went over to the closet to retrieve the aforementioned tux. Renny clicked her tongue and looked back at her clipboard.

“Aaaand finally, a duet - room three. The guy wants the Heaven and Hell package.”

Allen suddenly froze, gaze flying across the room to where Kanda stood, equally as still. Their eyes met. The Heaven and Hell package was a deal they’d come up with ages ago, and it had failed spectacularly. They’d choreographed the dance, practiced it to perfection, and not a single customer had bought it. Allen had always assumed that was the catalyst that made Kanda hate him, as if it was someone his fault no one liked the idea of them dancing together. Allen had always just figured they were too different; if someone wanted a twink they’d ask for Allen, if someone wanted a rough and dominant guy they’d ask for Kanda, and the chance of someone wanting both was relatively low.

But now, it seemed, someone had decided they wanted just that.

“Great.” Kanda muttered sarcastically, turning away and grabbing his hairbrush. Allen sighed. What amazing timing, for their duet to be requested when they were in the middle of… whatever it was that had been going on between them lately. Allen sat down at his makeup table and opened his makeup case, deciding not to think too hard about it. It was just one dance. He’d get it over with, walk the floor a bit, then go home to his apartment and a glass of vodka. It was just another dance, that’s all.

 

\--

 

Heaven and Hell was a show Allen and Kanda had come up with when they were both new at the club. Kanda had been there for about a month, and Allen had been hired just a couple weeks prior. It played off their angel and demon dynamic, with a simple narrative straight out of a supernatural porn novel; a demon seducing an angel, tempting him into sin. The song was “You Make Me Wanna Die”, by the Pretty Reckless, and even though they hadn’t done it in months, Allen remembered every move.

He sighed as he headed to the private room, checking one last time to make sure his outfit was on properly. He glanced sideways at Kanda, who hadn’t said a word since his gripe back in the dressing room.

“So… Heaven and Hell.” Allen said lamely, unsure of what else to say.

“You can still do right, right?” Kanda asked, sneering. Allen glared.

“Of course I can! I remember every step.” he snapped. Kanda turned to look at him, an odd expression in his eyes.

“You sure about that?”

“Absolutely!” Allen stuck out his chin. “I could dance both parts if there were two of me.” He expected Kanda to shoot another barb at him, but instead, the other just slowly nodded, then kept walking. Allen blinked in confusion and followed. There was clearly something on Kanda’s mind, but Allen couldn’t imagine what it might be.

The customer ended up being Link, which wasn’t too much of a surprise, but Allen was ecstatic to see him. He’d worried Kanda might’ve scared him off last time he came by, but apparently he was back - with an appetite.

“Hey handsome.” Allen purred, sauntering up to Link. He bent and kissed his cheek, just barely brushing his lips to his skin. Link had the same expression of nervous excitement that he’d had during his other visits.

“Hello again.” Link said, quiet. Allen smiled and turned, stepping onto the small stage area. It was set up in front of a large round red bed - a place for lap dances to happen, as that was included in the price of a private dance, if the customer so chose. There was also a small stereo system, which Kanda was currently messing with. He seemed to have no interest in talking to their customer, which suited Allen just fine. He took the opportunity to wink and pose for Link, making him blush. Maybe this dance wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The guitar intro set in, and Kanda stepped onto the stage with him. They faced each other, making strong eye contact. As if they’d practiced the dance moments before instead of months before, Allen fell perfectly into the mindset. Low lighting, a deep bassy rhythm, Kanda standing across from him looking like he might eat Allen. It was perfect. They were opposing forces, the hunter and the hunted. It was time to dance.

They moved closer with sudden, purposeful steps, moving to the beat. Kanda stalked forward like a lion, Allen twirled closer like a ballet dancer. By the time the lyrics began, they were standing almost chest to chest, their gazes still locked.

 

_ Take me, I’m alive _

 

Right on cue, Kanda reached for Allen, snaking an arm around his waist. Allen fought dramatically, squirming against his chest, grinding their hips together as he did so. He pushed off from Kanda’s chest, turning away, a look of mock disgust on his face. The angel fighting his captor, struggling to escape the sin.

 

_ I had everything _

__ _ Opportunities for eternity _

 

He turned his face to the sky, hands locked in mock prayer, even as Kanda moved up behind him, pressing against his back, hands gliding over his legs and the front of his shorts. They moved up, starting to unzip Allen’s corset. Allen gasped and turned, their eyes locking again. He leaned in slowly as the music slowed…

 

_ Your eyes, your eyes _

__ _ I can see in your eyes, your eyes _

 

… Then he shoved Kanda away again, just as Kanda’s fingers pulled the corset from his shoulders. Allen bashfully covered himself, glaring at the smirking demon before him.

 

_ You make me wanna die! _

 

He flung himself at Kanda, their bodies locked in a mock battle that never stopped looking like the erotice dance it was. Allen clawed at Kanda’s hair and back, arching against him as he was lifted, Kanda’s lips being pressed to his chest. He briefly turned to look at Link, displaying at expression of helplessness. Link looked absolutely floored, and it made a feeling of pride bloom in Allen’s chest. He danced away from Kanda again, only to slowly move closer as the second verse set in.

 

_ Taste me, drink my soul _

__ _ Show me all the things that I shouldn’t know _

 

Now he played curious, wandering close as Kanda danced on his own, displaying himself. The demon playing the tempter, instead of the hunter. You catch more angels with honey than with vinegar. He trailed his fingers over Kanda’s abs, pretending to be memorized by the display. The angel enjoying his first taste of sin.

 

_ I had everything _

__ _ Opportunities for eternity _

 

He leaned forward and licked along Kanda’s treasure trail, starting at the low-riding waistline of his leather pants and ending at his belly button. Kanda’s fingers strayed along his hair and down his neck to his shoulder as he stood, pressing himself against Kanda’s chest.

 

_ Your eyes, your eyes _

__ _ I can see in your eyes, your eyes _

 

Once again, their gazes locked, drawn to each other, faces growing closer and closer. Their lips almost met, and Allen could feel Kanda’s breath ghosting across his face -

 

_ You make me wanna die! _

 

Then Kanda suddenly bent and bit his shoulder, making Allen gasp dramatically, throwing his head back. The demon strikes, moves to take what he wants from the angel. The angel squirms again, fighting for his freedom. Allen reached dramatically for the sky, as if begging God for help. But of course, none came, and Kanda pulled away to show the dark mark he’d left on Allen’s skin. Allen heard Link gasp, and he struggled to resist the urge to smirk. It seem their performance was well received.

As they “battled” once again during the chorus, Allen mentally prepared himself for the final act of the performance. When the music slowed, he would drop to his knees, the angel finally defeated by the demon. He would bow, reach longingly for Kanda’s face, and Kanda would kneel, take hold of his hair, and finally kiss him. From there, the dance would be under Kanda’s control, the angel fully charmed by his demon lover, love surrendering to lust, chastity surrendering to sin. It was an old, tired trope, but Allen was sure he could play it well. He thrilled to think of Link’s reaction. He twisted out of Kanda’s grasp, their eyes meeting one final time, their bodies poised. Allen waited for the moment to strike, to drop to his knees and surrender.

But instead, it was Kanda’s knees that hit the floor.

Allen started in surprise as his dancer partner fell to the floor, dropping in a perfect imitation of the motion Allen was supposed to do. Kanda bowed his head, nearly groveling at Allen’s feet, movements slow and deliberate.

 

_ I would die for you, my love _

 

Kanda’s hand slid up Allen’s calf, then his thigh, his face slowly tilting upwards. Gone was the hungry expression Incubus usually wore, replaced by an uncharacteristically open and desperate look.

 

_ I would lie for you, my love _

 

Allen’s heart was hammering in his chest. Kanda had completely flipped their roles, and suddenly the dance was all different. Now it was the demon who was surrendering, the demon who’d been enchanted and was now begging for his lover to touch him.

 

_ I would steal for you, my love _

 

Kanda reached up Allen’s body, his hand tracing over his stomach. His eyes were wide, pleading. Everything about his body language screamed  _ I give, I surrender, you have conquered me, please stop taunting me, touch me, touch me please. _

 

_ I would die for you my love _

 

Allen did the only thing he could think of. He dropped to one knee, stance strong, and seized Kanda by the hair. He pulled him into a kiss, harsh and demanding. Kanda kissed back, sloppy and open and needy, and Allen swore he could hear him moan. He pushed Kanda back and straddled him as the chorus kicked in for the final time, flawlessly fulfilling the role Kanda should’ve played.

 

_ Look inside your eyes _

__ _ I’m burning in the light _

 

He ground his hips down, gaze intense, Kanda writhing beneath him as if Allen was a puppeteer and Kanda was a puppet begging for a command. Allen felt his pulse hammering, the experience strangely thrilling, but his mind still struggling to understand why Kanda had done this. Was he trying to pull the rug out from under Allen? Or was there a deeper reason than that?

The music ended with Allen pinning Kanda’s hands to the stage floor, holding him down with his body. The angel had won. Love had prevailed over lust. Heaven hovered above Hell. Allen stayed there for a moment, panting, looking down at his dance partner, who was smiling softly, as if he knew a secret. If Allen didn’t know better, he would’ve thought he looked proud.

“My goodness…” Allen was jarred out of his thought process by Link’s breathless words. He turned, flashing a smirk.

“So, liked the show?” he asked, sitting back on his knees before standing. Kanda scrambled to his feet a moment later. Link was very pink in the face, his eyes wide.

“You two are beautiful together.” he murmured, awe in his voice. Allen couldn’t help blushing a bit. The tone in his voice made something warm and unfamiliar stir in Allen’s heart. Kanda laughed for a moment.

“Glad you think so. No one else has ever bought our duet before.” His voice weirdly happy, and that confused Allen even more. Wasn’t Kanda going to throw a tantrum over Link again?

“Really?” Link sounded shocked. “You’re the best dancers here.”

“Oh my, what a flatterer!” Allen giggled, sitting on the bed and putting a hand on Link’s thigh. Link twitched in surprised.

“Don’t let the others hear you say that.” Kanda moved to Links other side, stretching out on the bed, one arm propping up his head and the other resting on his knee. “They might get jealous.”

“You’d know all about jealousy, wouldn’t you, Incubus?” Allen teased. He was surprised when Kanda’s expression looked almost worried for a second, before he flashed a wolfish smile.

“Don’t be so petty. I think it’s pretty clear our friend here can’t make himself choose between us. Isn’t that right, Link?” Kanda looked up at Link, who made a surprised and flustered noise.

“I’d think my choice of performance says enough.” he said bashfully. Allen laughed.

“Well, since you like us so much, you’ll come back, right?” He thought it was a simple question, an easy way to coax his customer to return. But apparently it meant something different to Link, because the man looked deeply conflicted.

“I…” He hesitated, hands squeezing into fists. Allen looked on in confusion. “... Yes. Yes, I think I will come back.” He sounded almost resigned, or perhaps disappointed in himself. Allen tilted his head.

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic.” he commented curiously. Link bit his lip, a nervous and kind of adorable action.

“I’m new to this whole… thing.”

“What, going to strip clubs?” Kanda asked. Allen wasn’t sure when this had turned into a sleepover, but apparently they had, because they were both cuddled up to Link’s sides and listening to him talk. Link shook his head.

“Liking… men.” he said slowly, as if he had to force the words out. Allen stared.

“You’re straight?”

“Well, I assumed I was!” Link sounded a bit affronted. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“I guess, but why would you come here if you thought you were straight?” Allen watched, baffled, as Link seemed to struggle to answer.

“Let’s just say I was given reason to doubt my heterosexuality.” he said vaguely. Kanda snorted.

“Yeah, I’d say your boner the first night you were here was reason to doubt that.” He smirked, and Link blushed red. Allen leaned across Link to gently swat Kanda.

“Be nice, the poor guy’s as green as could be.”

“Green?” Link asked curiously.

“New. Never been to a club before.” Allen explained. “Only you’re extra green because you didn’t even know you were gay.” He nuzzled Link’s cheek and smiled in a way he knew was cute as could be. “Don’t worry though, I don’t mind green guys.” Link smiled nervously.

“Well, that’s good…” He shifted slightly, then suddenly stiffened, and Allen realized that Kanda was gliding a hand over Link’s back.

“We’re the farthest thing from green.” Kanda said lowly, a small smile playing on his lips. Link’s nervous smile upgraded to a nervous laugh.

“I-I see that. Um… Pardon me for mentioning it, but isn’t our time nearly up…?” Link glanced nervously at his watch, and Allen found himself giggling.

“Wow, never had a customer who timed me!”   
“Me neither.” admitting Kanda. “They usually want to push the time past what’s allotted.”

“O-Oh. Well, I wouldn’t want to be rude…”

“He does want to be rude! Oh my goodness, what a green sweetie.” Allen kissed Link’s cheek and stood. “Alright, we’ll stick to the rules. See you next time, sweetheart.” He wiggled his fingers as he left, Kanda already out the door. Link gave a little wave, and Allen laughed again at his precious awkwardness.

 

\--

 

Allen and Kanda didn’t talk for the rest of the work night. They worked the floor, gathering tips without meeting each other’s eyes. They cleaned themselves up and changed into their street clothes without speaking to one another. However, despite the lack of communication, they walked to the door at almost the same time, and both hesitated in the quiet alley outside of the club. Allen turned to Kanda and crossed his arms, keeping his expression purposefully neutral.

“So. What was that all about?” He didn’t need to elaborate. The silence between them had spoken clearly enough. He watched as Kanda turned away from him, looking down the alley as if he expected someone to come and meet him.

“You know what it was about.” he said quietly. His voice lacked the hostility Allen was used to, and it made him uncomfortable.

“No, I don’t!” he snapped, glaring. “You completely switched the dance right in the middle. What was the point? Were you testing me? Trying to get me to mess up in front of Link?” Kanda didn’t react at first except to take a deep breath and shut his eyes. Then, finally, he opened his eyes and looked at Allen.

“Use your head, beansprout. Don’t make me say it. Please.” His eyes, for once, were wide and honest, and Allen realized it was the same look he’d worn in the private room, when he’d fallen to his knees. He looked intense, and perhaps a bit desperate. He was trying to tell Allen something with his eyes, and the message just wasn’t getting across.

“I don’t-”

“Please, Allen.” Kanda said softly. It was the use of his name, more than anything, that gave Allen pause. He’d never once heard Kanda say his name to his face, and he was shocked at how  _ nice _ it sounded. He took a deep breath, finally realizing what Kanda was trying to tell him.

He leaned forward, slowly shutting his eyes, and kissed Kanda on the lips. It wasn’t like the kiss they had shared during their dance; it was sweet, slow, almost chaste. Kanda kissed back with a relieved sigh, one arm slowly wrapping around Allen’s waist. Allen didn’t let himself overthink. He just enjoyed the taste of Kanda’s lips, the warmth of his body, the tickle of his long hair against Allen’s cheeks.

When they broke apart, both were smiling softly. Allen giggled, and Kanda raised an eyebrow.

“Something funny?” he asked. Allen leaned forward, nuzzling into Kanda’s neck, and poked a finger at his chest.

“Pew.” he said cheekily.

“Pew?”

“Shot your heart.” Allen explained, snickering. Kanda snorted.

“Moron.”

“Stoic bastard.”

“Clown.”

“Asshole.” Allen laughed, and he decided, right then, that no matter what happened, this moment was good.

For right now, heaven and hell could coexist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so scared of running out of energy for this AU so I'm spitting out chapters like no tomorrow lol.  
> Here's the song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GoqdZgQ2as0


	5. Time to Talk

A couple months passed. The weather got warmer, Link stopped wearing wool peacoats to work and started wearing light blazers. His work was going well, his reputation as a lawyer was only improving and his clients were always grateful for the hard work he put in. He had brunch every Saturday with his pseudo-family, and all in all he couldn’t complain about the direction his life was going.

The only issue was that he was going to the strip club almost every week. He’d told himself he wouldn’t return after the private dance that Tokusa had suggested, but unfortunately, the night had only made him want to see his favorite dancers all the more. And not just as dancers either - as people. While he’d greatly enjoyed the dance, what had really gotten to him was the conversation after. Incubus in particular had drawn Link’s interest. Never had he seen the dark, dominating dancer seem so casual and comfortable. And Cupid’s kind words about Link’s “greeness” had been genuinely comforting. It had made them both seem more human, and more appealing as a result. So Link had gone back again, and again, and yet again, enjoying every show but very conflicted. He hadn’t gotten another opportunity to speak to Cupid and Incubus, except for the occasional flirting when the dancers weren’t performing. Each time that had happened, they’d acted as they had before - seductive and sweet, but not genuine. Link wanted to go back to sharing the bed in the private room, relaxing together as if they were just three friends hanging out instead of two strippers and their customer. Finally, Link concluded the only way he was going to get them to sit down and talk with him properly would be if he booked a private room again. Which would be expensive, but Link was starting to get a little desperate.

He waited on the round, red bed, nervously twisting the end of his braid. He wondered if it was against company policy to hire dancers just to talk to him. He really didn’t care to see a dance tonight - as enthralled as he was by their performances, he wasn’t here for their bodies. By the time the door opened, Link was so tightly wound, his shoulders were stiff.

“Hey there handsome.” Cupid slinked in, and Link noticed he looked rather happy. Incubus was close behind him, and he moved towards the stereo without a word. Link hastily spoke up.

“Actually, if it’s all the same to you, I’m not here for a dance.” Link said it politely, but apparently the words carried weight he hadn’t considered, because both dancers went still, expressions suddenly serious. Incubus turned, looking guarded.

“We’re not that kind of establishment.” he said coldly. Link felt his face heat up.

“Oh my, no, no, you have the wrong impression! I’m just here to talk to you two, really. We never get a chance to when you’re working out there, so I thought…” Link trailed off. Cupid looked confused, while Incubus continued to glare, clearly not trusting Link’s words. Link sighed. “If it helps you believe me, you can sit on the stage and I’ll stay here. I won’t even attempt to touch you. I genuinely just wanted to get to know you both more, and I couldn’t think of another way to contact you.”

“Customers never want to get to know us…” Cupid said doubtfully, moving to the stage and sitting cross-legged. Incubus moved to his side and did the same. Link noticed they were sitting rather close together. “Not unless they want to fuck us.”

“Or worse, stalk us.” Incubus growled, and Link realized he didn’t just look tense. He looked protective, like he’d throw a punch at any moment.

“I assure you, I have no intentions of doing either. To be frank with you, I don’t think I could handle the idea of…” He swallowed, forcing the words out. “... having sexual relations with anyone. I’m still struggling with all this. I just couldn’t get that evening we had together out of my head. And I don’t mean the dance part.” He ducked his head slightly, cheeks pink. “Though that was quite lovely.” He looked back up at them, watching their faces. Incubus still looked tense as a taut string, while Cupid was chewing his lip, as if considering Link’s words.

“I mean, I guess as long as we’re not giving away personal information, there’s no harm in it, right?” Cupid looked to Incubus for guidance. “If he doesn’t know our names or where we live or anything, he can’t stalk us. And if he tries to do anything to us you can just knock him out.” Incubus nodded, and Link shivered slightly. He hadn’t really considered the fact that Incubus’ muscles were probably just as useful in a fight as they were appealing on stage. Link let out a relieved breath.

“Thank you. I understand your reluctance, and if I ask something too personal, please don’t answer it. I don’t mean to pressure either of you for information or anything else.”

“So what did you want to talk to us about?” Incubus asked, still sounding miffed. Cupid scooted closer to him, resting his head on his shoulder, and the dark-haired dancer seemed to relax slightly. They were actually much friendlier than they had when Link had first met them.

“Well, since you two can’t share details about yourselves, I guess I’ll tell you about myself to start. My name is Howard Link, I work as a defense attorney.”

“Howard?!” Cupid snickered, covering his mouth. “That’s such an old man name!” Link scowled.

“Believe me, I’m well aware. My brother never lets me forget it. There’s a reason I go by my last name.”

“Brother?” Incubus prompted.

“Well, not real brother. I was raised in an orphanage run by the local church, and all the kids that hung out together tended to consider each other siblings. So, with that in mind, I have four ‘brothers’ and one ‘sister’, though none of us are related. None of us were even adopted together, or came to the orphanage at the same time. We just tended to look after each other.”

“Were you ever adopted?” Cupid asked, voice surprisingly gentle. Link shook his head, and Cupid nodded slowly, as if in understanding.

“I’m an orphan too. My mother died when she had me, and my father-” Cupid paused, seeming to think better of sharing his secrets, and shook his head. “Let’s just say I grew up with my uncle.” Incubus hummed.

“We’re a room full of orphans. I was adopted very young though, I don’t remember my parents, or miss them.” Link was startled by that reveal.

“So we all have something in common.”

“Two things actually - we’re all hot as hell.” Cupid winked, and Link sputtered.

“Well, I mean… You two are certainly…”

“Not used to compliments, Howard?” Incubus teased. Link huffed.

“It’s Link, thank you very much. And no, I’m not.”

“Aw, but you’re such a snack!” Cupid protested. Link blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“He means you’re tasty. Lickable. Hot.” Incubus sounded bored and almost condescending, but that didn’t detract from what he was saying. Link blushed for what felt like the millionth time that evening.

“I-I thought we were avoiding such topics?” he said weakly. Cupid smirked.

“Just because I’m not allowed to screw you on company time doesn’t mean I can’t compliment my favorite customer.”

“Favorite…?” Somehow, that made Link’s head even dizzier. “Why favorite?”

“He likes pretty guys.” Incubus reached up and petted Cupid’s hair, eyes still on Link. “So do I, for that matter.” Link squirmed under his piercing gaze.

“I am flattered that you two seem to have such a high opinion of me.” he said carefully.

“It’s not just your looks - I’m not used to customers being such gentlemen.” Cupid added. “You’re so… polite. I still haven’t forgotten how you bowed to us that one time!” Incubus snorted at that.

“He looked stiff as a rod. In more ways than one.”

“Is that not the intent of coming to an establishment like this?” Link asked, rather irritated.

“Hey man, I don’t blame you.” Incubus turned, pressing a kiss to the top of Cupid’s head. “I get hard when he’s grinding on my lap like that too.” He looked sidelong at Link, his lips still on Cupid’s hair, and suddenly, a thought hit Link like a train.

“Are you two… a couple?” he asked. Cupid beamed.

“For two months now! We got together that night you bought our dance, actually.” He turned, nuzzling his face into Incubus’ neck, and Link felt an odd sensation clench in his chest. “We hadn’t danced together in ages, and it gave him the confidence to tell me how he felt. Sort of. So you indirectly caused it, I guess!”

“I see.” Link said shortly, not understanding why he suddenly felt irritated. Something in his tone made Incubus’ eyes flash.

“Jealous?” he asked, cooly. The question caught Link off guard. “What, were you hoping you’d get his number by the end of tonight?” Cupid pressed a hand to Incubus’ chest.

“Easy there tiger. He already said he’s not here for personal info. And besides, if he wanted my number, he would’ve hired me by myself.” This seemed to calm Incubus slightly, though he still looked suspicious. Suddenly, Cupid’s words from their last meeting came back to him.  _ You’d know all about jealousy, wouldn’t you, Incubus? _

“I came here to talk, nothing more.” Link twisted his braid. “You both have rather engaging personalities. I wanted to get to know you more, that’s all. If you wish for me to discontinue my attempts, then this can be our lasting meeting.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic, both of you!” Cupid snorted. He smiled, totally carefree, and Link wondered if he was just bad at reading the mood, or if the boa-clad dancer was making a genuine attempt to diffuse the tension in the air. Whichever it was, Cupid scooted into Incubus’ lap like a particularly insistent cat and cuddled up contentedly. “We’re here to talk, so let’s talk. Might as well do what the customer wants.”

The rest of their allotted time was filled with, essentially, small talk. Incubus barely joined in, mostly responding when directly questioned, or prompted by Cupid. Link shared more than either of the dancers did, but he didn’t mind. It was, as he had hoped, similar to the conversation they’d had before, and he did learn a little about them. Incubus was bisexual and a master of martial arts as well as a dancer. Cupid had originally gained a taste for performance by working in a circus as a child, and had worked as an acrobat before he’d gotten hired at the club. Both were in their twenties, like Link. Cupid was the touchy one while Incubus wasn’t a fan of PDA - something they not only mentioned, but demonstrated repeatedly. By the time the conversation drew to a close, Link was genuinely sad to see them go.

“Time’s up.” Incubus drawled, unceremoniously tipping Cupid out of his lap. Cupid squeaked and stumbled, not quite falling to the ground. He gave Incubus a little shove.

“Jerk.” The word held very little venom. He turned to Link and flashed a smile, reaching out and touching his shoulder. “Thank you for this, it was really nice. The fact we’re getting paid for it is honestly just the icing on the cake.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Link’s cheek, and Link struggled not to duck his head and hide out of shyness.

“It was my pleasure, really.” Link looked to Incubus, who was already by the door. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before speaking.

“Yeah. I guess it was okay.” He looked pointedly at Cupid. “Come on, you’ve got another dance tonight. Don’t waste time.” Incubus turned and walked out without saying goodbye. Link didn’t have long to feel offended, as he suddenly felt lips against his ear.

“My name’s Allen. If you want my number, tell the bartender you want an Angel Kiss. And don’t worry about Incubus. He’ll come around eventually.” Cupid leaned back, winked, and strutted out of the room. Link sat, staring at the closed door, mouth slightly agape. Slowly, he smiled to himself.

“Allen…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, I'm sure you all know how life goes. I rushed the end a bit but honestly, I like it better that way. Skips us forward a bit to the more interesting parts.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuses.  
> Songs:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GyOQ_FkN-M8 (this isn't exactly the remix I envisioned but it's the best I could find)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L13pGdEEisg


End file.
